


That's My Wife!

by Adrianna99



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Fluff, Post-Canon, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18400883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrianna99/pseuds/Adrianna99
Summary: Mila rested her chin on Sara’s shoulder and closed her eyes.  Sara’s long, soft hair brushed her cheek, the gentle scent of her perfume tickling Mila’s nose.  “I can’t believe you smell so good even after hours and hours on a plane,” she murmured.Sara chuckled.  “I might have freshened up in the bathroom before I came to find you,” she replied.  “I wanted to look my best for my beautiful girlfriend.”Mila shifted so that she could see Sara’s face and then kissed her on the tip of the nose.  “I love you just as much when you’re sick, or tired, or jet lagged, as I do when you’re dressed up,” she said sternly, and was rewarded with a cute blush on Sara’s cheeks.“Love you too,” Sara said softly in reply, her eyes bright, and Mila’s heart swelled.  Goddamn, she was going to marry this woman one day.[Five times Sara and Mila get to sayThat's my wife!and one time they didn't have to]





	That's My Wife!

**Author's Note:**

> Lesbians? Lesbians.
> 
> This was written for the [Primadonna Zine](https://yoiprimadonnazine.tumblr.com/), which was a lot of fun to contribute to!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Mila stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to see over the crowds in the St. Petersburg airport, and then glanced impatiently down at her phone.  Still open on the screen was the text conversation with her girlfriend (and absolutely, definitely her future wife) Sara, who had landed less than half an hour ago.  

Mila let out a long, dramatic sigh, and then nudged the man beside her, who had driven her to the airport.  “Hey, you’re taller than me, can you see her?”

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov looked up from his phone and squinted at the crowd before giving her a sheepish smile.  “I’m sorry, I don’t see her either,” he replied. “How long ago did she text you?”

Mila looked down at her phone again, unlocking it to see the time her girlfriend had sent her fifteen heart emojis.  “Thirty two minutes and forty eight seconds ago.” She fidgeted. “I don’t know why she could be taking so long, what if she got lost-”  

“Mila!” someone shouted from behind her.  Mila turned, but that was all the preparation she got before a familiar person slammed into her, wrapping her in a hug.  

“Sara!” Mila said happily, hugging her girlfriend back tightly.  

“I’m so glad I found you,” Sara whispered in her ear.  “It’s so much busier than I expected!”

“I think a couple of flights let out at the same time,” Mila replied.  The two women clung to each other for a long moment, before Mila pulled back slightly.  “How was your flight?” she asked. “Did everything go alright? Mickey didn’t freak out on you last minute, did he?  Were you able to-”

Sara cut her off with a quick peck on the lips, and Mila blinked in surprise before slowly smiling.  “Don’t worry, everything went fine,” Sara laughed, and then her teasing smile turned sweet. “It’s really good to see you again, Mila.”  

“Yeah,” Mila replied, her voice a little hoarse.  “It’s good to see you too.”

Sara let go of her with one arm long enough to brush her fingers over Mila’s cheek, through her hair.  “Long distance is tough,” she sighed. Mila swallowed hard, and nodded. It was hard. Even after three years, it was hard.  

Sara brightened, and hugged Mila close again.  “Anyway,” she said cheerfully. “No use dwelling on it.  I’m here now!”

Mila rested her chin on Sara’s shoulder and closed her eyes.  Sara’s long, soft hair brushed her cheek, the gentle scent of her perfume tickling Mila’s nose.  “I can’t believe you smell so good even after hours and hours on a plane,” she murmured.

Sara chuckled.  “I might have freshened up in the bathroom before I came to find you,” she replied.  “I wanted to look my best for my beautiful girlfriend.”

Mila shifted so that she could see Sara’s face and then kissed her on the tip of the nose.  “I love you just as much when you’re sick, or tired, or jet lagged, as I do when you’re dressed up,” she said sternly, and was rewarded with a cute blush on Sara’s cheeks.  

“Love you too,” Sara said softly in reply, her eyes bright, and Mila’s heart swelled.  God _damn,_ she was going to marry this woman one day.  

Sara’s eyes widened slightly, and she started, “Mila, did you just-”  

Someone softly cleared their throat behind Mila, and she took a moment to throw a playful glare over her shoulder at Yuuri.  “Oh, hush, you and Viktor are the kings of hugging in airports and train stations, you can’t talk,” she said.

Yuuri chuckled.  “Sure, but we only have three hour parking.”  

Mila sighed dramatically, and then turned her attention back to Mila.  “You’re sure you’re fine to stay at my apartment?” she fretted.

Sara smiled reassuringly.  “I am, I promise,” she replied.  “Thanks so much for _letting_ me stay.”  

“Any time,” Mila chirped.  She grabbed the handle of one of Sara’s suitcases in one hand, and laced the fingers of her other hand together with her girlfriend’s.  “Ready?”

Sara gave her a sweet smile and a quick kiss on the cheek before they followed Yuuri out to the car.  Once Sara’s luggage was in the trunk and Yuuri was in the driver’s seat, Mila snuggled with her girlfriend in the back of the car.  

Sara slid an arm around Mila’s waist, and then said in a low voice, “Mila, you… in the airport, you said…”  

Mila looked up at her girlfriend with wide eyes.  “What did I say?”

Sara licked her lips nervously and then blurted, “You said you wanted to marry me?”  

Mila went as red as her hair.  “Oh my god, did I say that out loud?” she gasped, and then buried her face in her girlfriend’s shoulder.  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

Sara laughed, sounding almost relieved.  “Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind,” she promised.  “I mean, I’m definitely in favor of that plan. At some point.”  

Mila looked up hopefully.  “Really?”

Sara nodded.  “Yep. We can figure it out?”  

Mila gave her a wide grin.  “Sara, oh my gosh, I love you,” she gushed.  

Sara gave her a tight hug.  “I love you too.”

Mila gave her girlfriend (fiancé?  Were they engaged now?) a sloppy kiss on the cheek, and then said teasingly, “I’ve always wanted an excuse to cry out, ‘That’s my wife!’ and have it be true.”  

Sara giggled.  “There you go, that’s the best reason to get married,” she replied.  Mila grinned, her heart going a million miles an hour, and then settled back against her girlfriend’s side for the rest of the car ride home.

***

Sara woke up only a little bit jet lagged her first morning in St. Petersburg, cozy and warm in the soft blankets on Mila’s bed.  Beside her, her girlfriend still lay asleep, her red hair bright against the cream color of the pillowcase. Sara rolled over onto one side and gazed dreamily at her girlfriend, a lazy, lovestruck smile on her face.  As if she could sense Sara’s attention, Mila stirred before one eye cracked open.

“Hey,” Sara whispered, her mouth a little dry.  

Mila smiled crookedly back.  “Hey yourself,” she replied.

Sara reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of Mila’s eyes.  “Do you have any plans for today?” she asked.

Mila rolled over as well and shifted closer until she and Sara were practically nose to nose.  “No, not really,” Mila said after a thoughtful moment. “It’s the off season, so getting time off practice was easy.  I could show you around St. Petersburg, if you’re interested?”

Sara grinned.  “Sure, I’d love to see your home,” she replied.  

Mila shifted again, and her freezing cold foot brushed against Sara’s thigh.  Sara flinched, and then they both giggled. “If you want,” Mila offered once they had stopped laughing, “I could take you out to breakfast?  I know a couple of good places that aren’t too far away.”

“That sounds amazing,” Sara replied, and then sighed wistfully and snuggled a little deeper into her blankets.  “I suppose that means we have to get up.”

Mila shrugged, and then grinned impishly.  “I guess I could carry you to the restaurant in a blanket burrito, but I don’t know if they would give us a table like that.”  Sara reached across under the blankets and tickled her girlfriend’s ribs in retaliation.

Gasping with laughter, Mila rolled off the bed.  “OK, OK, let’s get up,” she said. Before Sara could untangle herself Mila had rounded the bed and scooped her up, blankets and all.  Sara laughed, worming her arms out so that she could fling them around Mila’s neck.

“The fact that you’re so strong is really hot,” she murmured in Mila’s ear, and snickered at Mila’s bright blush.  She kissed Mila on the cheek, and then Mila gently set her down before kissing her back. Sara folded the blanket and left it on the end of the bed.  

The two women got dressed quickly and then left Mila’s apartment in a cheerful hurry, holding hands and staying close.  “The cafe isn’t more than a block or two, are you alright to walk?” Mila asked, and Sara nodded.

“Of course,” she replied, and then grinned.  “We’re both professional athletes, I think we can handle it.”  

Mila laughed.  “True. OK.”

Sara squeezed Mila’s fingers and then gently swung their clasped hands between them.  “Besides, it’s not too cold out.”

Mila nodded, and Sara looked up at the sky, scraps of blue showing between the clouds.  “It’s pretty nice out,” Mila agreed, and then tugged at Sara’s hand. “Oh, right here.”

Sara smiled and followed her girlfriend in the door of a small, warm cafe.  There was a short line for the register, and Mila got at the end of it before she said to Sara, “What do you think you want?  The pastries here are really good.”

Sara smiled.  “I’ll have whatever you’re getting,” she replied.  “I trust your taste.”

Mila smiled.  “Alright.” They moved up in the line and the boy working at the register smiled at them.  He said something in Russian, and Mila paused. “Are you sure you want me to order for you?” she murmured to Sara in English.  

Sara smiled.  “Of course.”

Mila smiled back, and then turned to the boy at the register, placing their order in Russian.  He nodded and put it in, and then said in accented English, “Your friend is not Russian?”

“That’s my wife, actually,” Sara blurted, wrapping an arm around Mila’s waist, and then went red.  Mila giggled, leaning against her, and Sara knew that she was going to be hearing _plenty_ about her outburst as soon as they were alone.  

“Oh, alright,” the boy said, looking a little confused.  He blinked, shook his head, and then said, “There are empty tables, your order will be called when ready.”  

Sara forced a smile.  “Spasibo,” she said a little tentatively, and then let Mila lead her away.  

“Sara!” Mila laughed as soon as they were out of earshot and the boy had moved on to the next customer.  “I had no idea you were so territorial!”

Sara was sure she blushed harder, and she hid her face in her girlfriend’s shoulder.  “Me neither.”

“It’s cute,” Mila told her happily, hugging her from the side before they sat down at a table for two.  She winked at Sara. “And I’m glad I’m not the only one who wants to have a wife.”

***

Mila was _gay_ _._  

It usually didn’t take much to remind her of that fact- usually just one glimpse of Sara, and Mila’s heart would beat a little quicker, she might have to hold onto something if she swooned, and she would thank her lucky stars that she was fortunate enough to have such an amazing girlfriend.  But today… _today…_

Sara and Mila were at a joint photoshoot, a modeling job for one of the sponsors they had in common. And every time Mila looked at Sara, or caught even just a flash of her out of the corner of her eye, she had to remind herself that she was in public and technically working, and could not steal her girlfriend and cover her in loving kisses.  

“Alright, take a break,” their photographer said, and Sara immediately relaxed, offering Mila a hand.  They had both been sitting on a concrete slab that would later be edited to look more like the pier it was supposed to resemble, dangling their feet into a space that would later look like water, and Mila accepted her girlfriend’s hand down.  

“How are you doing?” Sara asked with a smile, and Mila loved the way her girlfriend kept their fingers laced together as they walked over to a table of snacks and drinks.  

“I’m doing alright,” Mila was able to say.  

Sara’s smile widened slightly, and Mila tried not to stare too obviously at her lips.   _Wow_ _,_ she really wanted to kiss Sara, but that might mess up her lipstick.  And then Mila would get in trouble with the photographers.

Sara flicked her long, shiny hair over one shoulder, and straightened her silk blouse.  “Only another hour or so,” she said encouragingly, grabbing a bottle of water to drink. Her neck arched elegantly as she took a sip, the fingers of her other hand absently playing with the hem of her short, soft blue skirt.  

Mila quickly fumbled for her own drink, taking a large gulp of water.  “Y-yeah,” she managed to stammer. “Almost there.”

Sara tilted her head slightly and set down her water bottle.  Her violet eyes sparkled, even in the harsh light of the studio.  “Do you want to go out to dinner after the shoot?” she asked.

Mila nodded.  “Yes, that sounds good.”  

Sara frowned slightly and stepped closer, pressing the back of her hand to Mila’s forehead.  Her skin was cool and smooth, and she smelled faintly of something sweet and enticing. “Are you feeling alright, Mila?” she asked.  “You’re a little flushed.”

“Um, I’m feeling fine,” Mila replied a little breathlessly.  Her eyes fluttered closed, reveling in Sara’s touch. “It’s just hot under the lights, I guess?”  

When she opened her eyes Sara was studying her closely.  “Is that it,” she said, and now she sounded a little amused.  

Mila’s cheeks flushed.  “Um. Yes?”

Sara squinted at her, and then smiled.  “Sure.” She leaned a little closer and whispered in Mila’s ear, her breath warm, “You’re sure it has nothing to do with me?”  

Mila swallowed hard.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

Sara’s lips curved into a gorgeous smirk.  “Oh?” She brought one hand up and ran her fingers through Mila’s undercut, ruffling the hairs a little.  

Mila licked her dry lips.  Sara stepped closer, so close that they were almost touching, and then brushed her thumb over Mila’s cheek.  She leaned in and Mila’s eyes fluttered closed and Sara’s lips brushed Mila’s-

“Miss Crispino?” the photographer called a little uncertainly.  “Miss Babicheva? Are you ready to continue?”

Mila winced internally.   _Damn_ _._  

Sara leaned in a little more so that her lips more firmly pressed against Mila’s, and then pulled away.  “Yes, of course,” she called back. Mila opened her eyes just in time to see her girlfriend wink at her. “I guess the kissing will have to wait until later,” Sara said playfully, and then walked back in the direction of the photographer with a bounce in her step and a swing in her hips.  

“ _Wow_ _,”_ Mila whispered, pressing one hand to her chest to feel her thundering heartbeat.  “ _That’s_ my wife.”

***

Sara lifted her arms triumphantly, breathing hard as she took her final free skate pose in the center of the ice at the Figure Skating World Championships.  Around her, as her music faded, the audience burst into wild applause.

Grinning widely, still short of breath, Sara waved to the crowd as she skated to the edge of the rink, picking up a plush or two in the way.  Her coach was waiting for her, Sara’s skate guards in hand and a wide grin on her face. “Sara!” she said excitedly. “That was amazing!”

Sara took her skate guards from her coach and matched her grin.  “Thank you,” she replied breathlessly. It only took her a moment to snap her skate guards over the blades of her skates, and then she and her coach hurried to the kiss and cry to wait for her scores.  

Sara sat anxiously in the kiss and cry, hugging and plush and trying not to jiggle her knee.  She knew, objectively, that she had done really well. She had had an excellent short program score and had ended the day before in second place, and now she had just skated her what was probably the best performance of her free program yet.  

“Don’t worry,” Sara’s coach murmured in her ear, squeezing her shoulder.  “You did amazing, your score is going to be equally as amazing.”

Sara smiled nervously.  “I really hope so.”

A voice rung over the stadium speakers, but Sara’s ears were ringing too loudly for her to hear anything as she looked with bated breath up to the screen where her score was being displayed.  “Sara!” Sara’s coach exclaimed, clutching at her arm.

Sara’s breath caught in her throat, and her eyes filled with happy tears.  She had been right about skating her best free program yet, her score was a personal best by a lot.  

“Sara!” someone called from the edge of the ice, and Sara turned to see her girlfriend waving to her.  “You looked amazing!” Mila called, barely audible over the crowd. Sara smiled back, trying her best not to cry, and blew her girlfriend a kiss.  Mila pretended to catch the kiss and pressed it to her heart, and then took off her skate guards and stepped onto the ice.

“I want to watch,” Sara told her coach, and her coach smiled and nodded.

The two left the kiss and cry, and Sara quickly found a place where she could see the ice perfectly just as Mila reached the center and took her starting position.  She waited with bated breath as the arena fell silent, and after a moment Mila’s music began.

Sara watched with wide eyes as her girlfriend moved gracefully across the ice, a gentle smile evident on her face even from far away.  She had seen Mila skate her free program dozens of times- in competition, at practice, even when she and Sara had gone skating for fun at a local rink- but this time…  

There was something different in the way Mila moved, in the way she skated.  Mila always moved with grace, but now she seemed like grace itself, tracing delicate lines on the ice before setting up and beautifully completing a triple toe loop.  Sara gasped, bringing both hands up to cover her mouth. She could tell, before Mila even finished the program, that she was going to win. There was no way Mila could lose, skating like that.  It was gorgeous, enchanting, _breathtaking_ \-  

Mila glided her way through the last few steps of her program and finished with one arm to her side, the other outstretched as if welcoming someone home, as the last notes of her music rang through the arena.  Sara, by little more than a fraction of a second, was the first one to start clapping, cheering wildly.

Flushed and ecstatic, Mila took several bows before making her way off the ice, waving as she went.  Sara raced to meet her, heedless of her own coach and of a scowling Yakov, and swept her girlfriend into an enormous hug.  “Mila, Mila,” she exclaimed. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!”

Mila smiled shyly.  “I was thinking about you, so it’s no wonder,” she replied, and Sara’s heart skipped a beat.  

“Oh, _Mila_ _,”_ she whispered.  

“Come on, to the kiss and cry,” Yakov said gruffly, but he seemed like he was trying not to smile.  

“Come with me,” Mila said earnestly, clutching at Sara’s hand, and Sara nodded.  They kept holding hands even as they sat in the kiss and cry, and even as Mila’s scores flashed on the screen.  Mila stared, wide eyed and open mouthed, at her world record, and Sara hugged her close.

“You’re amazing,” she whispered.  It didn’t even hurt to come in second, not really.  It wasn’t at all a disappointment, when the winner had skated as Mila had.  

Mila kissed Sara breathlessly, happily, and Sara kissed her back until Yakov cleared his throat.  They parted, both blushing, but Sara cupped Mila’s face in her hands. “That’s my wife,” she said proudly, beaming, and Mila burst into happy tears before hugging her again.  Sara hugged her back. She couldn’t stop smiling.

***

To be fair, Michele was probably a little bit drunk.  They all were, for different reasons. It was supposed to be a celebration… celebrating Mila’s gold at Worlds, and Sara’s silver, celebrating their engagement (Sara had proposed without warning at the banquet, made brave by a glass of champagne, and Mila had gleefully accepted in a heartbeat), celebrating the fact that Sara’s twin was visiting them in Russia and hadn’t done anything too overbearing yet.  

 _Yet_ _._  

“You know,” Michele said, slumping back in his chair.  He gestured with his glass, still half full of vodka, at Sara.  “She can be trouble. You need to make sure you keep her out of trouble.”  

Mila set her jaw and glanced sideways at her fiancé, who was sitting next to her with her head down, staring into her own glass.  There was a small frown on her lips, but her hair hung in such a way that Mila couldn’t see her eyes.

Michele leaned forward, and Mila could tell that he was probably a little more than a _little_ drunk.  “I don’t want her to have a boyfriend,” he said.  “So at least you’re not a boy. Don’t hurt her, though.”  

Mila gritted her teeth.  “I’m not planning on hurting her at all,” she said slowly, clearly.  “Sara and I have been together for years, Michele. I care about her and she cares about me, and neither of us are going to hurt each other on purpose.”  

Michele gave her a look, sullen.  “I just need to protect her virtue, to make sure no one hurts her or takes advantage of her.”  

Mila was, maybe, just a little bit drunk as well.  She snapped.

“Enough,” she said loudly, getting to her feet.  Her chair pushed back with a scrape, loud enough that it attracted the attention of a couple other patrons of the bar they were drinking at.  Michele blinked up at her, confused.

“Enough,” Mila said again.  “Sara’s a grown-ass woman who’s completely capable of taking care of herself!  She doesn’t need you getting into her business or trying to protect her, she’s an adult!  Don’t you _dare_ talk about my wife as if she’s not competent enough to-”  

“Mila,” Sara said quietly, reaching up to lay a hand on Mila’s forearm.  Mila realized she was clenching her fists, so hard that her nails dug into her palms.  “It’s alright,” Sara said quietly, her face perfectly blank.

Mila frowned.  “No, it’s not, I-” she started.  

Sara squeezed her arm, ever so gently.  “I think it’s time that everyone stops drinking,” she said.  “Mila, let’s go home, alright?”

Mila took a deep breath and swallowed down her anger.  “Alright,” she said quietly.

“Mickey,” Sara added, turning to her brother.  “Can you find your way back to your hotel alright?”  

Michele nodded slowly.  “Yes, it’s just across the street, but-”  

Sara smiled.  “That’s good,” she said, cutting him off.  “I’m going to go home with Mila then, alright?”  Michele nodded again, and before he could say anything Sara kissed him on the cheek before gently dragging Mila away.  

“I’m sorry,” Mila said as soon as they were out of the bar and out of earshot of Michele.  “I shouldn’t have yelled at him. I was being just as bad, speaking for you-”

“Mila,” Sara said with a quiet laugh, sliding an arm around Mila’s waist and pulling her close.  “It’s fine, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Mila bit her lip.  “Still,” she said uncertainly.  

Sara sighed, leaning her head against Mila’s shoulder.  “Mickey has always been like that," she said. “He’s always been overprotective.  He’s gotten better, but sometimes when he’s been drinking it… slips out. And then he needs someone to smack some sense into him.”  

Mila laughed sharply, surprised, and Sara added hurriedly, “Not literally.”  The two women looked at each other and laughed, and then Sara pulled Mila close again.  

“Anyway,” she said.  “When he’s been drinking I usually just let him go and then call him on his nonsense the next morning.  He’s properly ashamed and isn’t quite so overprotective for a while, we’re both happy. But… I appreciate you stepping in, as well.”  

Mila pressed her lips together, and then gave Sara a quick peck on the cheek. “You looked upset,” she explained.  “I don’t want you to be upset.”

Sara exhaled slowly, smiling.  “Thank you, then,” she said.

“Of course,” Mila replied.  They walked back to Mila’s apartment in companionable silence, hand in hand.

***

Sara waited at the makeshift altar, her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes on the path that, any moment, her fiancé would walk down.  After a lot of planning the two had decided to have their wedding in a park in Rome, and after months of preparation and waiting the day had finally come.  Sara was finally going to marry the love of her life, her soulmate. She couldn’t _wait_ _._  

A soft rustling drew her attention and Sara looked up to see her fiancé, her soon-to-be-wife, walking towards her with a wide smile on her face.  Sara lit up, and barely resisted running out to meet Mila where she stood. Mila met her eyes and her pace increased just slightly until she was standing in front of Sara, her eyes bright.  

“Hi,” Mila whispered in Russian.  

“Hey,” Sara replied in Italian.  

Their smiled matched.  Mila moved to stand across from Sara and then reached out and took both of her hands.  Sara stared down at their fingers, intertwined, their engagement rings gleaming in the sunlight.  Soon, they would have _wedding_ rings to match.  

“We are gathered here today,” their officiant started solemnly, “To witness the union between Sara Crispino and Mila Babicheva.”  

Sara smiled widely at Mila, and Mila smiled just as happily back.  She looked like she was about to cry, and Sara was sure that if her fiancé started to cry then she would too.  

As the officiant spoke, Sara found herself gazing lovingly into Mila’s eyes.  After so long, they were finally getting married. After being together for years, engaged for months, they would finally, officially, be wives.  They would be telling the truth, whenever they said ‘that’s my wife!’ It made Sara’s heart beat fast with giddy excitement. She was so in love, and just looking at Mila she knew she was so loved.  

It made Sara’s knees weak, the gentle expression on Mila’s face as Mila slid a wedding ring onto her finger, and Sara couldn’t hold back a few tears as she slid a matching ring on her wife’s finger.  

“Now,” the officiant said with a smile.  “You may kiss the bride.”

Sara stepped a little closer, putting her arms around Mila’s neck.  Mila smiled, her hands warm and gentle on Sara’s waist. When their lips met the kiss was soft, tender, sweet.  In some ways it was the same as always, kissing Mila, but now… but now…

“That’s my wife,” Sara whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, feel free to comment or talk to me [here](https://iwritebetterthanispeak.tumblr.com/), and have a great day, dear reader!


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